


Winter Evening

by Hexiva



Category: Legion (TV)
Genre: Consent Issues, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Fluff with a dark edge, I just had a desire to write a little Oliver/Amahl thing, M/M, sort of a drabble?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-13
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2020-12-14 06:20:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21011159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hexiva/pseuds/Hexiva
Summary: Oliver and Amahl find themselves together in bed on a snowy evening, discussing their lives.





	Winter Evening

The sun is setting on a snowy street. Oliver watches the snow drift down in the golden light of the street lamps to settle on the white-cloaked street, curled warm and tight in soft blankets and Amahl’s arms.

They’re in Scandinavia today, far, far from home for both of them. But the hotel room is expensive - the blankets are heavy and soft, and there is a fireplace in the corner, crackling away. They’re warm, and comfortable. The ice cube feels like a long way away.

“Tell me, my friend,” Amahl says, lazy and quiet, “Would you leave me, if you could? Cast me out of your body, as you helped David to do?” He runs his fingers through Oliver’s hair.

Oliver considers the answer. He knows, vaguely, that he should say yes. He had a life before all of this, didn’t he? But right now, right here, he is - not alone. Farouk’s touch is real and solid in a way nothing has been for so, so long. He’s  _ comfortable,  _ and it’s hard to want anything else. 

He turns to brush his lips over Amahl’s jaw. “Would you let me want that?” he asks. “You’re the puppet master, after all.”

Amahl shakes his head, letting his eyes slip shut. “You of all people should know why I would.” His chin comes to rest on top of Oliver’s head. “In the world of dreams, we are gods. It is only when we lack control that anything is real. You understand that, don’t you? All those years . . . you could have imaginified yourself a companion. But he would have been nothing but a puppet.” Amahl’s hand slides down under the covers to take Oliver’s. “I am in control of your body, not your mind.”

Oliver chuckles, running his fingers over Amahl’s hand. “Controlled freedom. Does that make you feel safe?”

He feels Amahl stiffen, for a moment, and then relax. “Perhaps it does,” he agrees. “Power is safety, after all. But you are safe here.”

Oliver smiles, sadly, and turns to bury his face against Amahl’s chest. Muffled, he says, “I believe you.”

He believes that Amahl believes that. But he’s warm, and comfortable, and loved, and he doesn’t feel like objecting. They’re together. That’s better than nothing. 


End file.
